Loveless
by Itanohira
Summary: Apparently, he has the same ring size as Bella. /Spamano, oneshot.


More wedding angst! This story is similar to 'Love you Too' except different-ish. Get what I'm saying? Ah, I love putting Lovino into the worst situations possible. =w= Anyways, this (and 'Tomato') is for trying out new styles and vocabulary...heheh. That, and I can write angst better than other catagories...*sigh* ...or maybe it's my writing style that's suited more to angst than other genres?

**Thanks again, Miss Kay! You've been such a great help, and even if I said a million 'thank-you's it wouldn't be able to express how grateful I feel! Thanks for putting up with me! :'D**

Okay...let's get this (depressing) party started! *dances*

edit: changed "Antonio" to "he"; other than that, everything else is the same.

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**Loveless**

**.**

Lovino did not love that bastard.

That, and apparently, Bella had the same ring size as him.

But to get back to the not-loving-_him_ part, at least, that's what he tells himself when the bubbly (_pretty, smart, cheerful - the list could go on, let's face it - she is everything he _should_ be) _blonde grinned and flashed the ring (_it's too bright, he scowls)_ to the crowd of women flocking over to the soon-to-be bride with soft coos of 'ooh's and 'ahh's. He slumps against the plush couch, and drapes his forearm against his eyes. His arm slips, and he catches a glimpse of Bella's form.

He has met her a couple times before, when he had still been dating Ant-

..._him._

Lovino blinks slowly, letting his eyes move sluggishly to the open window across the room. He almost doesn't regret saying 'yes.' In fact, right now, he could care less; he was so _numb._ And to be truthful, he couldn't care much about that either.

_"Lovino...will you be my-"_

Bella smiles - it is honest and pure (he _deserves her, he thinks sullenly_) and suddenly it lowers into a soft, worried, frown as she sets her eyes on the Italian, his gloomy form on the couch.

"Lovino..." She lifts her left hand in front of him and gives him another (_soft, gentle, _beautiful-) smile. "...What do you think of it?"

He looks at the ring, and suddenly wants to punch her - no, not her_ (it's not her, not her_), he really wants to bash in _his_ fucking face, because that ring -

-_that ring_-

That was the ring _he_ promised to give him, once upon a time a long, long time ago on a beautiful summer afternoon.

And he looks up, blank eyes masking an inferno and it's about to retort something awful - he cringes at it, and _God _that's something that should never _ever_ be said - and bites his lip. "It's...it's okay." He shifts, sitting up, glaring at the floor. "...I don't like the color." (_too bright, too _damn bright_)_ he finishes off lamely, the bite in his voice not quite biting in it's usual sourness. It sounds so...

...defeated.

Bella doesn't look fazed at all - in fact, she smiles so _fucking_ gently, oblivious to his sour mood and the atmosphere. He knows that she doesn't (_and _never_ will_) know about his past relationship with _him_, yet the words she speaks next tears into him, and all he can think is _I don't love him, don't don't never never -_"I love it." She says good-naturedly as she pats his head, ready to walk back to the group of women at the other side of the room, but pauses mid-step.

"It kinda reminds me of your eyes."

Lovino closes his eyes, pretending he didn't hear anything.

_"-best man?"_

It is a little more than two weeks before the wedding, and a little less than three since the last time they had seen each other when Antonio walks into the living room, calling out for his fiancé.

He stops mid-sentence when he locks eyes with a form lying on the couch. Lovino bristles and sits up, body fully on alert and ready to fight or flee at any given moment.

His eyes instantly change from sullen to fiery, and Antonio unconsciously stands just a little bit straighter.

"Why?" Lovino says as he ducks his head - he can't stand the sight of him, and he let's himself think his name for the first time in months -

_Antonio._

"What do you-"

"You know _damn _well what I mean by 'why'." He looks up and his voice has gone cold and fierce like frozen fire, but it is merely a fake mask that a young man is cowering behind, and it's burning him and Antonio and they both know it. Antonio doesn't even try to look sheepish. His cheery demeanor is gone as he stares evenly at the Italian on the couch. He already knows what Lovino's talking about.

"It was never," Antonio is the first to break their eye contact, and his voice has dropped in its pitch. "..._never_ for you."

Lovino always thought he would be the cool, collected one - the mature one after the break-up. He doesn't think he can be; even in the beginning he knew he never really was. He stands up from the couch in a rage now, glaring at the older man, hoping he'd just _die_ on the spot -

_"What the hell do you want?" Past-Lovino asks, annoyed, as his lover gently pulls him out into the backyard. The __Spanish __summer sun is out, layering everything in the garden with a soft amber glow and it almost takes Lovino's breath away._

_"I just wanted to show you something..." Past-Antonio smiles as he fumbles with his pocket. Lovino scowls but nevertheless is still curious in what the other wants to show him. "Aha-!"_

_Antonio, proudly (_handsomely, happily-_) pulls out a small golden object - it is thin and gold and it takes Lovino's breathaway (_unlike that golden Spanish summer so far, far away_) and his hand slowly presses against his mouth._

_"Antonio..." He reaches out for the ring, holding it in his olive palm. Antonio looks at him, his eyes warm and melted and bemused and - and -_

_"It's for you." Antonio takes it out of his hand, and flips Lovino's palm, gently sliding the warm metal (_so bright, so _fucking_ bright_) onto his slim ring finger. "So keep it."_

_All of a sudden everything is blurry and Lovino can't see and he panics -_

_-until a large calloused hand gently wipes at his eyes, and _oh,_ they were just tears-_

_"I-if you don't want it, you can just give it back-" Antonio is flustered by his tears, a mix of sadness and embarrassment on his face. "I don't mind. Really."_

_But Lovino knows better. He hugs the Spaniard and whispers soft 'yes's and 'I love you's and really, that's all Antonio wants._

_And needs._

- and he can't help but let tears blur his vision again (_where are those warm calloused hands now-?_) and Lovino doesn't know if it's because of what's happening _now_ or if it's because of those goddamn (_sweet, precious, never-let-go_) memories of a (_golden Spanish summer-_) time long ago.

He doesn't see it, but Antonio falters when the tears start snaking down the Italian's face.

He doesn't see it, but Antonio just-as-quickly puts his stony mask back on.

He doesn't see it, and he never ever wants to.

"Antonio?" a soft, voice, (_like tinkling bells_) calls out from outside faintly, and Antonio leaves the house in a rush, leaving the crying Italian.

It's a day after their little meeting when Lovino accompanies Bella and her maid of honor (_some girl who shouldn't be the maid of honor; after all, wasn't Elizabeta supposed to be it-?_) go out to find a dress for the bride-to-be (_BellaBellaBella, but shouldn't it really be _him_-?_) for the reception. Bella talks of cream colored silk and lace, her head up in a fantasy about to come true. Her maid of honor grins and nods, sighing as she too gets caught up in the soon-to-be-real dream.

He stays in the back, trailing behind the two women, and Lovino truly believes he's a masochist.

"I really do love him." Bella's statement makes Lovino look up, but he looks back down just as quickly.

"You're so lucky!" Her maid of honor exclaims. She laughs, and looks back at Lovino. "Right?"

"Yeah." He says, and fakes a grin, flashing his teeth. The light from Bella's (_hishishis)_ ring catches the light and momentarily blinds him. "Really lucky."


End file.
